O Sick Rose
by Silly Little Sparrow
Summary: Lucius remembers his time with Hermione before she dies.


Disclaimer: HP is not mine, unfortunately

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**O Rose, Thou Art Sick!**

_Hermione had grinned up at him, that night in Tuscany. "Someday, I'll unravel my DNA," she had said. "And I'll climb it like a beanstalk to the moon." She had grasped his hand then, pulled him to the window. "Look," she told him. "See up there? The moon. That's where we'll go, someday."_

_Lucius had wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I'll go if you do."_

_"That's right. We can build a castle there, just for us. It'll have stables, so we can ride as often as we like."_

_"And a watchtower, too, so we can gaze down at Earth, the Lonely Planet." His fingers traveled along her arm, feeling the soft skin, smooth as summer silk. _

_She had laughed, and looked up into his face. "We'll go back to Earth though, won't we? Because all the people are so lonely there. And then I'll look up at the moon, and see our castle..."_

_Lucius rested his forehead against hers._

**The Invisible Worm**

"Right now, all we can do is make her as comfortable as possible." The words were hollow and dull, just like the hospital walls. A pale colour, that not-quite-white shade that all colours eventually wither to. The Healer was like that, too: wan and dry from long years of speaking the death-words. That's what it was. The man was so dry he would crumble soon, like parchment, yellowed and stiff from age and overuse.

Hermione was still awake when Lucius went into her room. She was lying against stack of pillows, staring out the window, at the sky dissolving into night. But she turned when Lucius entered, and smiled for him. _Just for him. _

"How are you feeling?" He asked quietly. Lucius didn't know what else to say; he had never been a gifted orator. So he said what people expected him to, knowing that Hermione would understand.

That smile lost some of it's radiance. "I feel tired." Her voice--that young sound, more perfect to him than any symphony of Brahms, or Mahler--was tremulous. She noted his grimace. "The wind has caught up my voice, Lucius, and flown away." She broke off, gestured towards the plastic cup of water near her bed.

He reached out for it hurriedly, and brought it to her lips. She took a bird-sip, throat moving with difficulty, eyes closed against the pain. "Better?" He asked, knowing she wasn't.

"Better," Hermione agreed.

**That Flies in the Night**

_He bought the broom with her in mind. She hated flying, but knowing how Lucius craved the sky, Hermione insisted on learning. He had it specially commissioned for them: ebony wood, cut thick and long, with extra space for the two of them to sit comfortably. _

_"You ready?" He whispered into her ear. His breath stirred the fine hairs on her neck, and she shivered pleasantly in his arms._

_"Yes. You'll catch me if I fall, won't you? You'll be there?"_

_"I won't let you fall, little one." His arms wrapped around her reassuringly. "You're safe with me."_

_He had pushed off from the ground gently, letting Hermione grow accustomed to the feeling. Her face was set into a determined pout, cinnamon eyes bright under the moon's pale light. _

_He had taken her out for a ride each week, for gradually higher and longer trips. In time, Hermione was the one to steer the broom, guiding their path with sure hands. And she learned to like flying. Hermione never loved it as Lucius did--the joy of flight dwelled deep in his bones--but she came to grow fond of it, of the time they shared aloft._

_And every time they mounted their broom, Lucius would hear her whisper, "You'll catch me if I fall?" That little voice, silvery and smokey, like a castle in fog. "You're safe with me, little one," He'd always say. "I won't let you fall."_

**In the Howling Storm**

A droplet of water had fallen onto her chin, so Lucius ran the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. Her skin had lost the dark shimmer since the illness took hold. Now the young face--_far, far too young!_--was whiter than new frost on a windowpane.

It had begun to rain, a gentle, cleansing drizzle. Like grey Monday mornings with oatmeal and brown sugar, all surrounded by the warming scent of peat.

"Are you cold, little one?"

Hermione nodded in response, and Lucius could tell even that small movement was agony. He turned to the sofa behind him, and grasped the thick old afghan. It was all done in blues: sky blue, navy, ocean, cobalt, azure, indigo. The colours of rain, of peace, of silence. He spread it out, arranged it carefully over her slight form, just a wisp under the blankets.

"Thanks," Hermione said. A tiny smile traced the corner of her lips. She took a breath, inhaling the scent. "It smells like home."

"Like the Manor?"

"No," she murmured. "It smells like you."

**Has Found Out Thy Bed**

_Making love for the first time. He kissed her fiercely--__Her lips parted easily, opening to him like petals__--as they sank on to the Egyptian cotton sheets. They were green, a lush, forest green, soft as sin. Her mouth was sweet; and she smelled of honey and some fugitive blossom from the Meadow. She told him afterwards that his mouth had tasted of rosemary and mint._

_She cried out when he took her. Not in pain--Lucius was a thoughtful, sensitive lover. But when he had looked down on her face, helpless in ecstasy, smoldering eyes gazed back at him. That moment was perfect: the moon behind him shimmering in her eyes, the sound of the wind in the trees, the rain on the grass outside. He began to thrust, gently at first, and then masterfully, his cries blending with hers. She met his every move, her body becoming one with his own, melding and molding, and they rode the long peak down together. He laid with her after, still inside her for a long time, memorizing the curve of her neck, holding it forever in his mind.  
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_And still, the rain continued, as stardust drifted down._

**Of Crimson Joy**

"I'm fading, Lucius," she whispered. He could see it; the hand he held tightly in his own had grown colder, and her clouded eyes told him Hermione saw only shadows. A hint of desperation curled into her voice, and Lucius knew her fear was for losing him. He took her hand, kissed the fingers, one by one. Hermione had beautiful hands: long, slender fingers, tapered and elegant.

She started to cry, weakly, softly. "Hold me, Lucius." The sound was barely audible against the stillness.

Lucius moved her onto his lap, cradling her in his arms. She was so light, lighter than before. As though something had already left her body.

"Are you with me?" She asked, and Lucius could hear her breath falter in her throat. "Will you catch me if I fall?" Her eyes closed.

"I'm with you, Hermione," Lucius crooned, tears already forming, blinding him. "I won't let you fall..."

"Lucius," she breathed. "Lucius." She was panting lightly from the effort, and the man held her cheek. "Kiss me, love. One last time..."

**And His Dark Secret Love**

_Flowers scented the air. It was cool, by the Lake, shaded from the sun by thick trees. Hermione cupped the clear water with a hand, let it run through her fingers, sparking as the droplets caught the light. Then, suddenly, she Vanished her clothes, and slipped into the water. Lucius caught a flash of her skin as she dove, and he was unable to resist tugging off his robes and joining her. _

_He was there when she finally resurfaced, and she gave a squeak of surprise. "Lucius!" She was still laughing when he took her in his arms and kissed her. Her body was cold in the water, so he held her tightly against him, feeling the soft sand under his feet, the water sighing against him, the beat of her heart against his own. _

_She rubbed her face against his neck. "Remember this day, Lucius." She told him. "Forever in your mind."_

_"Forever," he echoed. _

_He had just enough time to wonder when he saw the mischievous glint in her eyes, before she quickly jumped on him, dunking him under the water. Lucius retaliated by pulling her with him, down, down into the icy depths. _

_Eventually, they swam back to the shore, and dried off in the dying light. Hermione and Lucius watched the sun set together, lying on the green moss and not saying a word._

**Does Thy Life Destroy**

He pressed his lips onto hers, and felt the life ebb from her body. He shook with grief as he embraced the thin shoulders one last time. He touched her cheek, then ran his hand down her neck, slowly rocking.

"I'll unravel your DNA, little one. And I'll climb it all the way to the moon," he whispered. "And I know you'll be there, waiting for me."

Those petal lips curved in a smile. One last smile. He traced it with his fingers.

"We'll build our castle, with the horses and the towers." He wasn't numb; the pain was deep in his chest, and it rose up his neck, until he couldn't see for the tears. "And we'll watch the Lonely World, Hermione. I promise you."

Lucius buried his face in her hair.

"And I'll be there, little one. I'll be there, and you won't fall."

He kissed her again, one last time. Her lips felt warm still, as though she had lingered long enough to hear the words that finally came.

At last, he pulled back, and felt her tears on his cheek.

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I should say I received inspiration for this partially from the wonderful Scion of Kushiel's "Where the Breezes Know My Name". The interspersed lines of poetry are from "O Rose, Thou Art Sick", by William Blake.

Hope you enjoyed!

Please review :-D


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